temporary fix || george harrison

26%

Third Person

Juliet was graciously transported back to the neighborhood in which the boys' flat was located; Hebe parting her with a feeling of hope. She knew she could place her trust in the goddess, just as the goddess placed her trust in Juliet to show her special field.

The young time traveler twiddled her thumbs as she walked down the familiar pavement of Wimbledon Ave, contemplating what she should do about the growing tension between her and George.

She knew that they both wouldn't last long if they kept up this charade- that they'd both just eventually turn into the roles that they were feigning.

But if Juliet left, she'd have no utter clue how to navigate her way through 1962 England on her own, not to mention, she'd seriously miss the company of her musical pals.

But she could not entertain herself with such thoughts- she knew what she had to do. She was aware of the serious moral and physical complications that would arise if she chose to remain within George's sights.

With that thought, Juliet made her decision and remained steadfast in it.

She was going to do the right thing- regardless of whether it ravaged her soul or not.

__

Juliet had entered the flat with almost an imperceptible creak of the door. She grimaced as she shut the door behind her as quickly and quietly as she could, sneaking away up to George's room with a flutter in her chest.

The flat that was now being packed up into parcels for the upcoming move had seemed relatively still, untouched. However, Juliet didn't dare disturb the settled dust by calling for one of the boys. She had to assume everyone was in their rooms, all independently doing activities with their ears intensely training to the slightest of noises.

With a random stroke of luck, the brunette girl made it to the top of the stairwell and to George's room without even the most minute of tap of her shoes on the hardwood. With a sigh of relief, she dug through his messy closet and yanked out a small piece of luggage. Something he wouldn't notice that was missing.

Juliet had to make it look like she just found the ring and just went back to her time. Without so much of a trace. Before she could change her mind, she tumbled around the tight room and packed up very little of her clothes and reached for George's white button up hanging off the bed.

She had to pause and think to herself, and allow her to feel the weight of her choice. The forlorn time traveler let herself give into her emotions for just a second as she touched the collar of George's wrinkled button down.

Juliet took the shirt into her hands and brought it up to her nose, and took an inhale. His scent brought tears to her eyes that burned as if they were traced with fire.

The chocolate from the sweets he's always eating, the mint from his toothpaste, the smoke from his cigarettes....

Juliet forcefully threw the shirt back onto the bed with her jaw set tightly- she didn't want to let him go. Even if she knew she was doing the right thing. It lifted flares within the swell of her chest, to which she ignored with indignation.

She finished her packing with tears running down her cheeks without any abandon. The feeling of sheer heartbreak that resounded within her was worse than when she left Jack. Her resolve was fading fast, the more time she spent in her faux-lover's room.

George... please forgive me. Don't think of me. Don't miss me. You'll always be in my heart, even when we're separated by decades. Generations. I love you.

-J

Juliet tearfully wrote the note on a spare piece of sheet music, sniffling as she smeared the lipstick on her lips that George loved so much on her. Juliet hesitated as she folded the note into a neat square- no, he didn't need a note to confirm her betrayal. He needed a clean break- without any strings attached. It was the only way she could confirm he would live a life free of her every crossing his mind. No note, no reason to explain her absence.

Juliet stuffed the note into the pocket of her purse, unbeknownst to her, the note fell out with grace, onto the floor beside his prized guitar. With a brief glance at the messy and unmade sheets of their shared bed, she set out to leave.

The time traveler pressed her ear to the door to listen for any activity downstairs and hadn't heard a peep, and deemed it safe enough to begin her descent. Juliet pried the door open slowly, as if to prevent any unwarranted creaks, and toed her way down the beaten stairwell.

She peered around and looked for any other signs of life in the living room, and sighed a breath of relief as she made it to the door unnoticed, but not before a disembodied voice called out to her.

"Goin' somewhere?" The raspy voice of that goddamned Lennon sent cold shivers down the steel of her back, and Juliet refused to turn her head to reveal the current state of events. However, her full purse and small luggage piece was rather incriminating- she was in nothing short of a pickle.

"No. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell George." She hoarsely let out, bringing up her hand to vigorously wipe away her tears from her red face.

God, Juliet would kill for a stick of concealer and compact mirror right now.

"Are you sure about tha' love? Come 'ed, Jules. Lets put on a cuppa for ya. You'll feel like your head is properly on with a sip." John said in a slight plea, walking down the stairs and approaching the fleeing bird.

Juliet walked closer to the threshold of the flat and turned the knob, much to the elder Beatle's panic.

"No! Juliet, you don't want to do this. Whatever it is, love, we can help you." John pleaded, placing a steady hand onto her shoulder from behind, in an attempt to bring her back to earth.

But his sincere action had proved to be fruitless, as she had continued her way out of the flat without so much as a blink back towards the bewildered John Lennon.

His confusion had quickly transformed into the likes of devastation- how would he be able to explain this to George? How his girl left without a goodbye?

Juliet, with a steely face, and her hand tight with her small parcel, left the Beatles' shared flat and made her way to a bus stop.

No one came to stop her.